We're Okay

Chapter 2

Harry

 

At exactly twelve on Sunday, a bright red sports car pulled up in front of his house. Harry stared out the window, watching as his father -- dressed in a simple white button down and a pair of dress pants-- walked up the front walk and knocked on the door. At the last minute he raised his head and spotted Harry looking out the window. Harry pulled back and tugged the curtains closed.

He could hear his mother downstairs, dishes clanking as she made a tea for herself and a coffee for his dad. He could faintly hear his father’s voice, just not the words he was saying. His mother didn’t call him down yet, and he hoped that meant that she’d changed her mind.

Sadly, the sound of footsteps started on the stairs, and then headed towards his room. Harry crossed his arms over his chest and faced the door, a neutral expression on his face.

“Your father’s here,” his mum said simply. She leaned against the doorway. “I’ve made my decision.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“And,” she sighed and brushed her dark hair off her face, “I’ve decided that it’s best for you to stay with him, just until Christmas.”

Harry nodded and grabbed his bag from where it lay at the end of his bed. He’d spent Saturday cleaning his room, and now it was completely spotless, the only thing on his floor being the bag that held all his clothing and important items.

He shouldered the bag and walked past her without another word.

“Harry,” she called after him, but Harry quickly moved down the stairs. He ignored his dad standing in the doorway to the kitchen, too, and slammed the front door behind himself.

He threw his bag into the stupidly small sports car. Honestly, it barely had a backseat. Where was the sense in cars costing more the smaller they got?

He waited in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, out the front window. His father stayed inside for a bit, probably chatting with his mum. The longer he took, the stronger his anger got. His fingers fiddled with the radio dials, even though the car wasn’t on so it didn’t really do anything.

Eventually, finally, the front door opened and his father walked out of the house. His mum stood in the doorway, a sad expression on his face. He knew, deep down, that she was as unhappy about this as he was. He knew that she’d miss him, and that the only reason she was doing this was because she honestly thought he’d benefit from it. And maybe, later on, he would be able to see it that way. But right then, he was just furious with everything and everyone.

“Got all your things?” his father asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Obviously,” Harry told him.

His father didn’t start the car, but instead turned his body so that he was completely facing Harry. “First thing, that attitude is not going to be tolerated in my home, do you understand?”

Harry nodded, not looking at him.

“Good, and second, there are going to be strict rules. You have an eight o’clock curfew, and you can’t have your phone back,” he continued.

“Am I being punished or kidnapped?” Harry spat.

His father sighed. “You act like I’m cutting off one of your limbs, Harry. It’s not going to be that bad. You’ll have your own bedroom, and I have a pool, and your mother mentioned that you love music, and there’s a top of the line system in your room--,”